Page 45 of Love, Accidentally

I watch as Will crosses the room and slides open the top drawer of a small chest. As he brings out each framed photo, I realise that there is an order to them. Each one fits neatly into a gap among the other photos that I hadn’t even noticed before. I get up and go to stand beside him while he works, taking the opportunity to study some of the pictures. Even without the descriptions I’ve listened to, I can somehow tell just by looking at her that Geraldine wasn’t someone to be messed with. Short and dark haired, she oozes personality even in grainy 2D. However, although there are a good number of pictures of the three of them, or her with her arm round Will in some holiday destination, they’re all quite old. The newest one I can see looks to be from Will’s twenty-first birthday celebrations.

‘She wouldn’t let us take any pictures of her when she started to need sticks and, ultimately, her wheelchair,’ Will explains, seemingly reading my mind. ‘She said she didn’t want to be remembered that way.’

‘Somehow, from what I’ve learned about her, that doesn’t surprise me,’ I reply.

‘It’s a shame you never met her,’ Jonathan says from his chair. ‘I think the two of you would have got on. What do you think, Will?’

‘Yes, she’d have liked you,’ he agrees. ‘She would either have adopted you as a surrogate daughter, or tried to marry us off. Don’t take it personally,’ he adds, realising what he’s just said and backtracking furiously. ‘She was the worst kind of matchmaker. Every girl I spoke more than three words to at school was instantly in her targets. She even had a go at you, Dad, didn’t she?’

‘Shh,’ Jonathan says, pointing at the ceiling. ‘I don’t want Gina overhearing.’

‘Gina?’ I ask, as Will and I sit back down.

‘Towards the end, Mum got the bit between her teeth about Dad being alone after she’d gone,’ Will says quietly, before shooting a meaningful look at Jonathan. ‘Given how things turned out, I’m inclined to agree with her.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Jonathan says with a sigh. ‘Get it all off your chest, why don’t you?’

‘Anyway, the point is,’ Will continues, evidently warming to his theme, ‘by then, Mum was pretty much housebound, so the only women she saw were either long-term friends who came to see her, or Gina the cleaner. The problem with the friends was that they all inconveniently had husbands who were very much alive, so she turned her focus on to poor Gina.’

‘She’d follow her around the house, asking questions about her personal life, her politics, the kinds of things she liked to do and so on,’ Jonathan adds. ‘I think Gina was a bit scared of her by the end. It was a little like living in one of those old sitcoms. I’d hear the whirr of the stairlift as Geraldine went up, swiftly followed by the clattering of Gina’s heels as she hurried downstairs to “find something she’d forgotten”. Geraldine would then come back down and Gina would find an excuse to go up. If you filmed it and showed it at double speed, it would have been comedy gold.’

‘Of course, the sad part is that Mum needn’t have bothered, because everyone knows Gina’s in love with Dad,’ Will says with a laugh.

‘No, she isn’t. You mustn’t say things like that.’ Jonathan looks horrified.

‘Oh, she so is. It’s fine. I’m here to protect you from the scary lady.’

‘She isn’t, and I don’t need your protection. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Will.’

Will merely raises his eyebrows and stares at his father.

‘You know what I mean,’ Jonathan says sulkily.

‘Are you two always like this?’ I ask.

‘Like what?’ Will replies.

‘Sparring constantly.’

‘No,’ Jonathan says, pointedly looking at his son. ‘There was a time when Will respected me.’

‘That was before you started behaving like a consummate arse,’ Will retorts.

Jonathan sighs. ‘You’re never going to let this go, are you?’

‘Not for as long as it gives me the upper hand, no.’

At that moment, a late-middle-aged woman who I’m guessing is the fabled Gina sticks her head around the sitting-room door. Her black hair is either the result of amazing genetics or, more likely, a bottle, and she’s heavily made-up.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Barwell,’ she says in a sing-song voice. ‘I didn’t realise you had company. I was just going to say I’ve finished everything so I’m going to head off. I do hope you feel better soon, and don’t hesitate to get in touch if there’s anything you need. I mean it. I’m often in the area so I can collect shopping, or things from the pharmacy. Just call and I’ll come running.’

‘Thank you, Gina,’ Jonathan says. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘It’s not a problem. The least I can do for my favourite customer.’

I feel like we’re collectively holding our breath as we wait for the sound of the front door closing and, sure enough, Will explodes with laughter as soon as it does.

‘I’ll come runninganytimefor myfavouritecustomer,’ he says in a high-pitched voice between gasps for air. ‘Come off it, Dad. She’s nuts about you.’

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